La Nuit du Shassuer
by ScreamScarlett
Summary: "There's no such thing as fairy-tales, Mr. Wolf." She didn't believe, but so did the entire goddamn world. "That's okay. I didn't come here to make you believe, I just came here to tell you that you're part of one." A sardonic grin grew across his lips as he stared down at her. TWAU!AU
1. prologue

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_He looked lost. _

_And lonely.  
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_But he was in the cell for a reason. The rules and system that they all had followed was there for a reason: to keep the mundane people surrounding their community from finding out who (and what) they truly were. The cell was a shitty place to be in, but it served its purpose in containing people and keeping them locked up until they were released._

_It was quiet, too. No complaining, no pleading, no nothing. Just complete and utter silence that all anyone could hear was the ringing noise in people's ears._

_It nearly drove the detainer insane just from all the mute. Pulling out another cigarette to his chapped lips, he flicked his zippo to life with a flick of his thumb. He breathed in the crap brand of nicotine, letting the smoke invade his lungs before exhaling it in the air to watch it drift apart in the oxygen. His tea-brown eyes trailed over to the silent prisoner that showed only his back to the bars and his face to the barred window._

_He had been that way since after he had been read of his crime, left mostly alone to stare off into the sky of the barred window._

_The silence was killing him. He stood up from his seat near the cell, crushing his cigarette on the ashtray before stuffing his hands in his slacks and moving over to the cell. The bars felt cold against his skin, but they didn't bother him much. He had dealt with cold before... although wearing human skin probably didn't count._

_"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"_

_The prisoner wasn't a violent, nor did he have any ill intentions on anyone in the small, hidden community. Actually, he was a good man that not a lot of bad things were said about him... Still, he had done something that landed him in the dank cell._

_To the warden's frustration, the prisoner didn't answer._

_"Dammit, man! You know why you're here. You can't just do what you've been doing! You can't change what's happened!"_

_His ears perked at the sound of shoe heals grinding against the gravely, dirty floor of the cell. The man inside the cell bowed his head, and it was enough for the detainer to know that he was being heard out. Given his history with the community, those that were willing to listen were few and far in between... but then again, this particular prisoner was always willing to lend an ear when someone wanted to be heard out._

_"It's gone..." he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "You... We can't keep doing this. We have to make do with what we have now, no matter how shitty it gets."_

_He was only met with silence.  
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_He almost gave up talking—_

_"The rain."_

_His dark eyes slide from the back of the man towards the barred window, the moon barely shining through the blankets of clouds. His senses were assaulted with the smell of water, but this rain..._

_"I miss the rain," came a quiet murmur that the warden almost missed it. "I miss the scent of when the leaves would blow along with it, brushing against your skin like fingers tingling across your hair. I miss the raindrops that make you feel that you're never alone, like there's a hand holding your own... or when they pepper across you nose like someone was giving you a kiss."_

_He turned around, his grey-steel eyes locking on to tea-brown._

_"I won't stop until I find the rain again, Bigby."_


	2. spear

**Scream Notes: **This is my first fanfic based on Fables, or otherwise known as The Wolf Among Us. I haven't played the game, I actually watched the whole thing through a Youtube walkthrough. I'm actually reading the Fable comic books online, and if anyone is curious, just type this:

www/ omgbeaupeep/ com/

I don't think I have to tell you what to remove when reaching for a website. Anyway, while I am reading the comics, I'm not going to actually follow the whole thing. I haven't far enough anyway. So, I'm doing an AU because I just want to, that's why. So, if any of you are curious, go ahead and read along the chapter, but excuse me for the chapters being short. Just remember to leave a review after reading because while I haven't gotten far on the plot of how this story goes, I got a good start on what's it's going to lead to. Thanks and enjoy!

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"OH, SHIT!"

"Come back here!"

People parted like the Red Sea when a man ran through them while holding a sack; a sack which was full of register money from the store he had been robbing just moments before the police nearby had responded when someone had called for help.

Right on his tail was a young woman dressed in dark clothes. With her shoulder length blond hair tied to her head in a ponytail, she was gaining on the tired robber.

"Fuck, FUCK! LEAVE ME ALONE, I GOTTA GUN!" he screamed over his shoulder as he jumped over the hood of a car.

"_'I GOTTA GUN'_, MY ASS! WE KNOW IT'S A TOY GUN! YOU JUST SPRAY PAINTED THE DAMN THING!"

"MOTHER_FUCKER_!"

Finding a familiar alleyway, he quickly curved in time to avoid being grabbed on his leather jacket and ran towards the linked fence. With a great heave of strength, he leaped high and pulled himself over to the other side before the cop got a hand on his leg. He let out a howl of triumph when he heard a frustrated noise from behind him, and he was already out of the alley and into the open streets.

Perfect for losing his pursuers.

Tucking the sack inside his shirt, he removed his obvious leather jacket, beanie, and threw them in some trashcan. Under the guise of a man with a pot belly, he slowed his gait and blended into the crowd like he was following the afternoon lunch rush. People of all shapes and sizes out together, blending and blurring into a confusion when it came to going out for something to fill an empty stomach.

With all the money, he rubbed on his bump like a perverted version of a pregnant woman, he was going to serve himself a feast!

"Gotcha!" a voice shouted from behind him before he found himself face planted on the sidewalk.

"What the fuck?!" he screamed as he struggled but his wrists were tightly encased in two metal circlets.

The robber looked over his shoulder to the person standing over him and felt a small hint of awe when he saw it was the tiny cop lady that had given chase after him. Dressed in a v-neck shirt with sleeves that reached her elbows, dark blue pants, and black-n-white sneaker, she looked like any other unassuming person... except for the fact she was wearing a dark leather shoulder holster where a mean-looking gun was safely tucked away rather than pointed directly at his school.

He could thank his lucky stars that things didn't escalate into something ugly, but it still didn't make him anymore happy that he was handcuffed under this short Barbie cop.

"You sure made me work for it, huh big fella?" she joked as she reached for his elbow to pull him up. "Almost lost ya there, too. I'll give ya props for the beer gut disguise."

This chick sounded like she came out of the Lone Ranger with that Southern twang. She must be new to the precinct, the robber decided, because she didn't quickly resort to violence like most officers he had come across in early line of crime work. It was impressive how she was agile enough to hop over cars, fences, and avoid hit being by traffic just to keep up with him.

After all, they didn't call him Robby _The Roadrunner_ Jenkins for nothing.

Not long after the arrest, he was stuffed inside a police car and being driven to the police department. It would be awhile for them to reach the department, so it was perfect time for Robby to get to know the transferred cop.

"New in the Big Apple?" he began.

While he was fully expecting the officer to respond with something along the lines of "shut up" and "don't make me taser you, you shithead", or maybe just being totally ignored, he was a bit surprised that she responded like they were having small chat over a table at some local diner eating pancakes.

"Yep! I'm from Dallas, Texas." she answered.

"Yeah, figured with your Walker Texas Ranger vibe." Robby snorted.

"I used to watch that show when I was little..." she giggled as she slowed the car from the red light ahead.

Robby couldn't help let out a laugh. He could imagine a tiny girl with pink bows pinned on her blond hair, large and curious eyes glued to the screen of a television with rapt attention as Chuck Norris karate chopped his way out of danger one episode at a time.

He almost didn't hear her laughing with him.

"Aw man," Robby calmed himself as he stared at the back of her head with wonder. "Who the hell are you?"

He could see her smiling grey-steel eyes looking back at him through the rear view mirror.

"The names Creed. Caine Creed."

What more he could have said had to come to an end, for they had reached the police department.

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"Bagged another catch, huh? Considering the good work you've been doing around here, which is a lot, I think you're good for something bigger than patrolling streets and giving jaywalker a couple of tickets."

Inside Commissioner Sullivan's office, I sat up a little straight at the mention of a possible big assignment. After almost a month of being in the New York department, I had successfully proved myself valuable by picking up the pace of the slow establishment that was set on its lazy and sloppy ways.

"Yes, sir." I said politely.

A file was slapped near the end of the wooden oak desk: a case file. From a nod by the older Commissioner, I reached over and took the brown file and opened it up for my eyes to eagerly absorb. What I saw in the file made me pause, and I had to bring the stack of papers and pictures closer in order to confirm what I was seeing was actually... legit.

In what looked like a grimy security photo that belonged to street lights there was a large, dark, and hairy figure that was running across in the middle of the street. There was even more pictures of the mysterious—_questionable_!—shadowy silhouette that looked as though it was car surfing after something. After a minute of staring at the pictures and reading some reports of the few witnesses that reported some say was a man, and others saying it was a monster, I looked up towards the stoic face of the Commissioner.

"Sir..." I tried to say, but I was silenced.

"A lot of people are on my ass about wanting answers about this incident. We've had a few near fatal car accidents because of this thing, and the mayor is trying to reassure the public about some weird fuck running around dressed as a monster."

I stared hard at the Commissioner as he leaned back in his leather chair while lighting a cigar. "I thought I would be doing something important, sir, not trying to chase after a couple of weirdos in a Wookie suit."

The Commissioner threw a glance at me. "This is important. I've been told by Chief Gideon that back in Dallas, you practically have been handing in car thieves, rapists, murderers, and all sorts of crooks practically four times a week."

I couldn't help but feel my ego inflate a little at the mention of my past accomplishments. Texas was like a wide hunting ground for me, and I was always searching for a prey to take on. After a time, I had set my eyes on New York because while Texas was huge, New York was deep.

"I want to see if your reputation proceeds you, Ms. Creed." Sullivan said as he leaned over his desk and resting his glazed eyes on my small frame. "Think you can handle that?"

Without a word, I close the file and stood up from my chair while heading towards the door. I didn't look back, but I did reply back.

"I'll have the report ready sometime in the next week or so, sir."

"Be seeing your report within the next week, Creed."

Standing behind the Sullivan's closed office door, I opened the file again to look at the monochrome pictures. Picking one up, I pulled it closer to my face for the light to shine on properly, and my eyes traced the dark figurine of what witnesses were calling _The Wolfman_.

"Better get started, then." I muttered to myself before heading back to my desk to get started.


	3. beyond

**Scream Notes: **The third chapter is released. The first few chapters do tend to drag out for awhile but we're getting closer to the good stuff where there will be nothing but Fables left and right with a spice of dark. We're getting closer for Caine to see all the hidden fairy-tales but not yet, just a few more and then we'll get there. Promise! Please remember to read and review!

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"Okay, start from the beginning, Ms. Lahey."

A sigh passed in the quiet room.

"I had picked up my son from the school play, and... and I was on the phone—Yeah, I know it's dangerous driving and talking on the phone, but my ex-husband was a prick and..."

"Ms. Lahey."

"Sorry." a cigarette crushed on the ashtray. "Joseph, my son, was trying to get my attention. I told him to quiet down, I was on the phone with his daddy. A few seconds later, he was shouting in the back, and I was getting so pissed at the racket he was making."

A pause.

"Take your time, Ms. Lahey. I can wait."

Another sigh, but it was shaky. Like trying to warm the chills crawling up and down someone's spine.

"Something... Something big landed on the roof of the car. I heard Joe screaming and crying, and I lost control of the car. I crashed into a lamp post, and I almost hit a couple and their kids, thank God the damn post was there."

"Yes. The couple said they had seen someone on top of your car, but they lept onto another when you began to veer off the lane."

"Jesus Christ..."

A quiet sip of water taken while another cigarette was lit.

Inhale. Exhale.

"I tore myself out the car just to get to the backseat. Joe was shaking, crying, pissing himself while he was holding onto me. He was screaming at me for not listening to him when he was calling for me."

There was a quiet sniff, silent tears that couldn't be held off.

"I was so... so fucking _pissed_ at myself. My little boy was trying to tell me something but I was too fucking busy mouthing off my fuck of an ex. Because of what happened, I'm no longer able to have my kid over like the court agreed... I can't have my little boy to myself because I, as my ex and his fucking lawyers put it, am an unfit mother."

Like a damn unleashed, everything crumbled apart from the rapids.

"They took my son because I couldn't protect him from the monster that was coming up from behind us! Its claws and fangs lunging right at him while I was... I was...!"

The hiccups and the cracked words barely filtered through past damp lips.

"Y-you know w-what's the worst? Th-that your own kid i-is the one pointing his f-finger at you, telling you h-himself that you failed t-to protect him!"

A tape recorder was shut off.

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Two days of asking around and interviewing witnesses (while avoiding whack-job theorists), I found myself sitting inside a traffic security office. Sitting beside me were two techs that were pulling out old videos for the viewing of the horrible night that left people hurt, shaken up, and above all, at a loss. One tech that looked like he spent way too many times eating nothing but junk food and developed a colossal hive in his stomach made a noise of triumph signaling he had found what they were looking for.

"Is this it?" I asked as I leaned in with them towards one screen that we could use without disturbing the rest.

"Yes, ma'am!" the other techie, the total opposite of his robust companion (he was so skinny he could probably hula hoop through a cheerio!), said as he pointed a single bony finger on the screen. "This was dated almost two weeks ago, near about after dark."

Mentally going over the period time this incident happened, he was right.

"Okay, can you play the whole thing?"

"Yes. We actually blended the whole thing into one disc so that it would save the department some time."

"Great, lets get started then."

With a click of the button by the big tech, we all watched the scene unfold. The more I watched, the more I felt my skepticism slowly slide away as the security footage continued. It was both fascinating and bewildering when I saw this thing _move_. If it hadn't been for the multiple accounts of people I had been talking to for the past couple days, I would have probably thought someone had hacked into the system and implanted a video of some sort to scare the people in traffic security offices.

But this was just too strange.

However, strange as it was, something caught my attention. Asking for one of the guys to replay the whole thing again, I waited patiently as the video rewinds until reaching the starting point. Taking care not to pay too much attention to the fast-moving man in a giant wolf suit, I focused on something that people seemed to have been overlooking because they had been to busy at awe of the monstrous-looking silhouette.

"Can you pause and zoom in on that vehicle right there?" I quickly pointed at the picture of the seemingly unstable vehicle.

"Yeah, sure." the large techie nodded as he rolled the zoom in/out ball on his desk.

"Can you get a view on the license plate on the car, too?" I added.

"Can do!" the scrawny techie on my other side chirped as he got to work on another computer set.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, I was looking a large screen of a single car I had picked out with high definition view of the license plate number. Quickly jotting down the numbers and letters, I turned back to the two men.

"You don't think I can get a copy of this disc to take home with me, do you?" I asked with a small voice while looking between the two of them.

"Actually, we were hoping you can take it. Our boss practically has old stuff thrown away after the interesting ones are sent to the departments for careful analysis. This disc was going to be tossed away or be bought by the media by the highest bidder."

It took me five seconds to realize I had stopped blinking. Silently, I took the waiting disc from one of the tech's hands, thank them for their services before leaving the security office; I had a few calls to make to find the owner of the fleeing vehicle that was determined to lose its hairy pursuer.

But first, I wanted something to eat.

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I hummed in content as I chewed into a chocolate chip pancake. The pancake house didn't seem popular like the iconic iHop, but it seemed to take care just the same because these pancakes made my mouth water just the smell alone. I could only count five people inside the place, eating their own afternoon pancakes and waffles with their eggs and bacon on the side.

While cutting up one pancake, my mind began to drift over the pictures and reports. At the beginning, I had thought that this was going to be something of a stupid assignment just to get me out of the way because people assumed I was some stupid rookie. However, the more I looked into this bizarre incident, the more it began to pull at my intrigue despite the nonsensical talk of monsters and giant wolves thrown in the mix.

Without my consent, my body was thrumming with excitement.

Logically, when this was all solved, done and over with, this thing was probably going to end up in one of those stupid magazines that babbled on about UFO's, demonic-looking Chupacabra, and even something about a vampire cult living beneath the forgotten undergrounds of the city.

Pushing past the odd events that had unfolded, my mind glued onto something more solid than a car-surfing beast: a car trying to get away from danger.

While I didn't like the idea of getting involved in things that had nothing to do with facts and reality (no matter what my body said), I still had to have this solved so I could have this typed up on the computer and personally deliver it on Sullivan's desk.

'Maybe then the old coot will stop dickin' around with me.' I thought as I chewed the last pancake piece on the plate, swallowed the remaining orange juice, and got up from my seat with dollars left on the table.

Grabbing the small bag that held the files, I went straight for the exit. I let out a small yelp when my foot suddenly slipped, my arms momentarily waving around like I was in the middle of the ocean drowning. I barely caught myself but I had unfortunately lost hold of the bag. Within seconds, the file and all of its contents spilled itself all over the floor.

"Hey you," I heard a gruff voice call from behind. "Can't you read? The floor's wet!"

I tossed the older man a sharp glare, and I felt satisfied when the guy ducked his head. New York was full of aggressive people, and it sort of came to me as a shock since I didn't have to deal with that kind of behavior when outside of police work. I had been warned by a few that New York was no push-over, and if I had wanted to be tough, I had to push back.

With that, I looked back to my task and began to pick up the mess of papers on the floor.

"Don't mind him," a new voice cuts through almost next to my ear. "He's always just a grouchy guy, so don't take everything he says to heart."

I looked up to see a teen, bright blond hair cropped neatly with a few spikes popped up near his forehead, his blue, blue eyes shining with friendly mirth. Kid was probably sixteen or seventeen years old, and if he was cute now, he would probably end up being a lady-killer as he got older. Dressed in a blue jeans, white t-shirt, blue sweater, and white-n-blue sneakers... everything about this kid was just blue everything!

And was that a trumpet...?

"Uh, thanks." I offered a smile as he helped me with the paper gathering.

I didn't want the kid to end up looking into stuff that was a bit classified, so I hurried with my paper gathering to hastily stuff them into the folder bag.

"Is this that so-called monster that caused the accidents?" I winced as I looked to find the kid staring at the closest clear picture of the hairy figure.

"Uh, yeah." I said as I took the picture from him and placed it before shoving the rest into the bag while taking the others from his arms.

"But that's fake." he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yeah, I know," I went along with it.

"Are you with the Daily Mail...?" he slowly asked, looking at me with a hint of uncertainty.

"God, no!" I chocked out, shaking my head at the idea that I was one of those crazy journalists that posted up nonsense like that Tommy Sharp fellow. "This is just small investigation stuff. Nothing to worry about, kid."

He was still giving me a look.

I was thankfully saved from digging a deeper hole when my phone went off. I pressed the screen and pulled it to my ear.

_**"Officer Creed?"**_ I almost winced. I accidentally heightened the volume.

"This is she." I answered as I quickly lowered it to comfortable levels.

**_"This is Dwight Henderson from Arlen's Junkyard. We got a match on the car you were lookin' for. The license, description, down to the model. We'll pull it up for you on your arrival."_**

"Oh," I sighed in satisfaction. "Did you get a name on the owner of the driver."

**_"Uh, yeah. Somebody by the name of...uh... Hold on a sec. Hey, Lou, is this right?"_** there was a moment where there was distant voices arguing back and forth, I was suddenly aware that the teen with the fondness of the color blue was still standing nearby. Close enough to listen to my conversation. **_"Yeah, sorry for the hold up. Had to make sure the name was right."_**

"That's fine." I replied.

**_"His name was, believe it or not, Georgie Porgie."_**

I couldn't help but pull away from the phone, stare at it was incredibility for a few seconds, and then pull it back to my ear.

"Georgie _Porgie_?"

**_"Yeah."_**

_'What the fuck?'_

**_"You still there?"_** Dwight's voice from the other line broke through my inner thoughts.

Finding some composure, I continued on. "Ah, uh, yeah. I'll be coming over soon. Have the car ready, please."

**_"Sure thing."_**

"Thanks."

With that, I swiped the screen off and let the cell fall back into my pocket. The blue teen was still standing nearby, listening with curiosity gleaming in his incredibly blue eyes.

With an awkward wave, I left the diner without a word.

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The car was a mess.

Window shield shattered, roof and hood completely dented and scratched, holes and claw marks littered over, and there was the blood in the backseat. Blood that pooled until whomever was sitting there was pulled out of the back and dragged away.

Who ever they were, with the amount of blood they lost, they were long gone.

"A pimp?"

"Yeah." a middle-aged man with still colorful red-orange hair and beard walked around the car until he stopped by my right side. "Owned a strip club called the Pudding & Pie. The girls were nice."

It didn't take much guessing on how he knew that.

"Do you know how he died?" I asked him.

"Well, from what I hear, the guy was a fucking prick to his girls. One of 'em, some chick of his, got sick of it that she gutted him. But not before the guy practically chopped her head clean right off."

I winced at the description.

"Chopped her head off?"

Dwight seemingly blinked to awareness from his glazed staring at the bloody backseat and turned his eyes to me.

"Oh, yeah! It was all over the news. The pimp tore one of his hooker's heads off. Since then, the strip club had been closed off."

Giving the care one more glance, I turned to Dwight and held out a notepad and pen.

"Can you give me directions of the Pudding & Pie?"

With some reluctance, Dwight reached for the notepad and pen from my hands and began to write the address of the location. Thanking the taller man, I turn away and head straight out of the junkyard with my car waiting outside.

There was something bigger than an animal going on behind the scenes...

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Inside a great room with a giant tree and an endless amount of books, empty armor, hidden swords, and untouched items that looked like they hadn't been dusted for nigh a century, there was but serene silence.

Until someone threw an office door open with a little too much force that the grainy window almost shattered.

"Blue!" a woman with pale skin and ebony hair scolded the intruder. "That was not necessary!"

"Christ, Snow, you're not gonna like what I have to say!" a teen, blond hair with blue, blue eyes and dressed in nothing but entirely blue with a golden trumpet tucked on his side, looked around the room wildly for someone. "Where is he?! He wasn't in his office!"

"Blue, what's going on? What news?" Snow walked around the large desk she was occupying to reach for the frenzy-looking teen. "Blue, what's happened?"

"Where is he?! Where's—"

"Bigby!" Snow exclaimed.

The teen, Blue, whirled around to face the man he had been looking for. Near the doorway was a man standing nearly two heads taller than him, with a rumpled white buttoned shirt, a crooked black tie, crinkled black sacks, and shoes. The gruff-looking man with dark ruffled hair calmly lit a single cigarette with his zippo as he came closer to the distraught teen and the worrisome woman.

"What's up, Blue? I can smell the anxiety rolling off you in waves." the older man rasped, his voice deep and somewhat raspy from the many cigarettes he went through day in and out.

"Bigby, Snow, there's big trouble!" Blue exclaimed.

The man and woman exchanged concerned looks before turning to Blue.


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